


The Bookshop is CLOSED

by Lunasong365



Series: Luna's GO Poetry [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bookshop, Gen, Implied Slash, M/M, Poetry, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Poem in Iambic Pentameter – favoured meter of Shakespeare (Aziraphale would approve, although he will probably smite me for talking about him and Crowley behind their backs.  Crowley just wants to open the present).</p><p>Background – The bookshop is adjacent to a shop that sells sex aids and toys.  POV: the proprietor, because all sex purveyors talk like the Bard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bookshop is CLOSED

_Bookshop Hours_  
_Monday – Irregular_  
_Tuesday – Inconsistent_  
_Wednesday – Erratic_  
_Thursday – Variable_  
_Friday – Intermittent ___  
_Saturday – Changeable_  
_Sunday – CLOSED_

***

The gentleman who owns the shop next door-  
now, I've been watching him for several years.  
A quiet sort – he seldom says a word.  
He keeps the strangest hours in his shop,  
and I'm not sure he's ever sold a book.  
He's got a friend who owns an old black car.  
Bizarrely vintage, if to tell the truth.  
A shifty fellow – hides his eyes 'hind shades,  
but stylishly dressed in well-cut suits.  
This friend comes over frequently, it's true;  
at any hour of the day or night.  
The bookshop owner always lets him in,  
and then they oftentimes will go back out.

Sometimes they will walk south toward St. James's Park,  
and sometimes they turn west and head toward Mayfair.  
At times they take the car to who knows where?  
But mostly, they just stay inside the shop.  
It's not my business what they’re doing there.  
But late at night, I overhear discussions.  
They get quite heated, 'though never in anger.  
The clink of glass on glass, then murmured words  
and sudden silence – best leave it alone.

Once I asked the bookshop owner if  
he'd like to stop inside and see my wares.  
I think I quite embarrassed the poor fellow.  
I thought they were inclined to that persuasion.  
It doesn't matter, 'cause I sell it all.  
He stammered back to me polite refusal,  
then fled inside his shop and locked the door.  
In minutes, his friend's parked out on the street.  
He goes inside – I hear the same old pattern.  
Discussion and the clinking, then the silence.

Just lately haven't seen them on the block.  
Heard rumour they've a cottage in South Downs.  
I'm very pleased that they are sorted out.  
I'd like to give the happy pair a present.  
Of course the gift will come out of my stock.


End file.
